


Long Day

by jane_x80



Series: Couples Therapy [11]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode: s02e10 Chained, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Secret Relationship, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6669622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jane_x80/pseuds/jane_x80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is undercover, chained to Jeffrey White. Gibbs, Kate, McGee and Abby work hard to get him back safely. But he is different when he returns. How does the team react to this different Tony DiNozzo that they got back? And what can Gibbs do to make their Tony return?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In Conversations with a Therapist, Tony told Brenner that sometimes it was hard to come off of an undercover op, citing that he did not speak to Gibbs for a week after being chained to Jeffrey White. Devon99 commented about wanting to know more about this time period, the aftermath of 'Chained'. I'd completely forgotten about that line until Devon99 reminded me about it, and then I couldn't get it out of my mind.
> 
> So here it is. There will definitely be spoilers for s2e10 Chained.

His gut was churning.

His gut had been churning ever since DiNozzo had convinced him to put him undercover with Jeffrey White and stage a prison break, leaving him chained to the unassuming little thief. And now that DiNozzo had accomplished what he’d set out to do – escape with White in the hopes that he would lead him to the stolen Iraqi antiquities – his gut was in overdrive.

He tried to tell himself that he was only so disturbed by this whole thing because it was his Tony. His Tony who had voluntarily (even gleefully) put himself in this dangerous situation to recover the stolen goods, and it was his Tony who was now not in his sight or within head-slapping distance, and that was what was making his gut so ornery. But he knew the consequences of ignoring his gut. So even though he had reservations about trusting his gut in this instance, he didn’t discount it either. Which made him extra grumpy as he drove around with Kate, following Tony via the GPS signal.

The final conversation at the Navy Yard with DiNozzo, in the elevator, when he had finally agreed to the plan kept playing in his head.

“Come on, Boss! This should be a piece of cake. Jeffrey White’s harmless – look at him! It’s his partner that we need to worry about, and you know we can’t find his partner unless White tells us where he is. My plan will work. I escape with White, I convince him to take me either to his partner or to the stolen artifacts, or both,” DiNozzo had said.

“No,” Gibbs growled. “It’s too risky. There are too many unknowns. White could be…”

“White’s a pussycat! _Look_ at him!” DiNozzo thrusted the file photo of the little man into his face – he looked quiet, timid, and was below average in height, below average in looks. He was just…below average all over. Probably a hundred pounds, soaking wet.

Gibbs grunted, pushing the photo away. “DiNozzo…” he said threateningly.

“What other choice do we have, Boss? You think this guy is going to say anything to the cops? Willingly give up his partner? If he just sat on this information, at most he’d be sentenced to two to five and be out in twelve months, tops. Then he could go claim his share from the partner. I mean, seriously. For the kind of money they’re going to get for these antiquities, he could do the time. A good lawyer might even get him off on a misdemeanor and he’d be out in even less time. We only have circumstantial evidence.”

Gibbs prowled the elevator angrily. “I don’t like you being so out of touch from us,” he finally said. “It’s not a good idea. This isn’t like the usual undercover.”

“The last undercover thing I did involved me dressing like a junkie male prostitute and trawling the streets for a john who was a serial killing Marine. How is this any more dangerous than that?”

“That time I got to keep my eyes on you the whole fucking time, DiNozzo!” Gibbs yelled.

Tony raised an eyebrow knowingly. Gibbs had almost had a coronary seeing his wardrobe for that op. He had bared a lot of flesh, and whatever wasn’t exposed was encased so tightly he might as well have been unclothed, and Gibbs had not been pleased by any of it. He’d hated everyone that had driven by and leered at Tony, hated every fake john that had picked him up as part of his cover. Hell, he’d come close to punching an agent from another team who had been wolf-whistling, cat-calling and giving Tony looks that made Gibbs steam the hell up. The man was nothing if not possessive.

“At least I’ll be all covered up this time, Boss. I mean, let’s face it, the jumpsuit will cover a whole lot of me, and prison orange is so not my color. Prison orange is not the least bit flattering on anyone! Hmm…what does it say about NCIS that our walls match the prison jumpsuit?” his thoughts meandered, his expression thoughtful.

Gibbs delivered a headslap, yelling “DiNozzo!” angrily.

He squeaked in response, but it did bring DiNozzo back. “Well, Abby’s going to put a GPS tracker on me. You’ll know where I am at all times!” DiNozzo yelled back. “Come on, Boss! You know this is the only way we’re going to catch these sons of bitches. The chances of us recovering these antiquities after forty eight hours are practically zero, it’ll all be sold and untraceably to private collectors. McFactVomiter said so,” DiNozzo said earnestly. “You _know_ I can get White to do this. You _know_ me. White’ll be eating out of my hand. He won’t be able to stop himself.”

Gibbs prowled around the elevator like a caged wolf before he slammed his hand, palm open, against a wall. “I don’t fucking like it!” he growled. “This is a bad idea.”

“You got any other ideas? If you do, I’m all ears. If we have an alternative, I want to hear it. I’m open.”

Gibbs shook himself, growling. DiNozzo tentatively put out a hand and tugged on his sleeve. Even now, in the privacy of the elevator, they didn’t break character, didn’t turn into what they were outside of work. Keeping their work selves and their after work selves separate was paramount. A rule neither of them ever broke.

“I’ll be OK, Boss,” he said gently. “I can take care of myself. I’ll be fine. I won’t let my guard down, not even with White. I’ll have the GPS tracker, and you can tail me so you won’t even be but a few miles away.”

Gibbs grunted.

“This is the only way,” DiNozzo said soothingly. He knew he had Gibbs now.

Next thing Gibbs knew, DiNozzo had greased up his hair, somehow grown a slight stubble seemingly instantaneously, and they’d had the whole thing set up. Hating the whole situation, Gibbs had insisted on being the one to put the shackles on DiNozzo who was practically vibrating with excitement. Gibbs asked for a minute alone with his agent on the DoC bus.

When they were reasonably sure that no one would be able to see them or overhear their words, Gibbs carefully took one of Tony’s manacled hands in his, gently rubbing a calloused thumb on the back of his hand. He looked deep into Tony’s beautiful green eyes.

“Don’t forget yourself,” he said quietly. “Complete the op. Come back to me.”

Tony stared back at him, meeting his worried blue gaze with calm green eyes, completely serious now, no trace of the annoying agent with the traits of an overgrown puppy. “I hear you, Boss.”

“Be careful.”

“Will do.”

“I won’t be far from you at all times.”

“I know.”

Gibbs sighed and looked down, unable to say the words. Not here. Not in this drab gray Department of Corrections bus.

“Love you, Jet,” Tony said quietly. He had no such qualms. Gibbs might have had to wait forever to hear the man choke the words out to him, but once he had, he gave them to the older man freely, along with all kinds of proof of his words.

Gibbs looked up, the corner of his mouth turned up in that almost-smile. “Love you too, honey,” he finally said.

Tony nodded, squaring his shoulders. “Don’t let Kate drive you nuts. Be nice to my Probie.”

Gibbs grinned. “Go get ‘em, DiNozzo.”

Tony gave him an answering grin before he blinked, and suddenly Gibbs found that he was no longer looking at his Tony, but a stranger. One with cold, determined eyes. A stranger with the eyes of a criminal. The stranger pulled his hand out of his grasp and looked out the window, dismissing him.

Gibbs stifled a worried sigh and walked off the bus, turning for one final look on the bottom step of the bus. The young man sat looking out the window with faraway eyes, the very picture of a criminal looking to escape. But at the last minute, he turned and gave Gibbs a mischievous wink before looking back out the window.

Shaking his head, Gibbs exited the bus and nodded to the DoC Officers. “He’s all yours,” he said quietly. “Good luck.”

Then he got into the car where Agent Caitlin Todd was waiting for him. And then began the longest hours of his life.

It didn’t help that his phone kept ringing with people trying to buy his nonexistent VW. It also didn’t help that things began to go to hell, one thing at a time.

When they first lost DiNozzo’s GPS signal, he’d had to bite his tongue to not yell at Abby. How could this have happened? That GPS signal was their only concrete link to White, and more importantly to DiNozzo. But when the truck went on the move and Abby had proof positive of DiNozzo’s position and he sounded well enough, he cooled down.

Until the fucking truck crashed. Even though he barely expressed his frustration outwardly, inside he was screaming in outrage, employing all the curse words in every language that he’d learned over the course of his career.

And then there was Kate.

Shit, most days he was thankful they had Kate. She was a competent investigator, she was smart, she could hold her own against him and DiNozzo both without backing down or being reduced to tears with every interaction (the way one probie they’d once had did). But while he was driving around rural Virginia trying to track an untrackable DiNozzo, and she’d wanted to make him talk, she’d wanted him to express his worry about DiNozzo to her to make himself feel better? He was glad his fingers were gripping the steering wheel because a large part of him wanted to grip her throat and squeeze.

As if saying “I’m worried about Tony” the way she had would make him feel _any_ better. They’d fucking lost that son of a bitch agent of his. He’d never lost an agent undercover before and he would be damned if Tony was going to be the first one. Not Tony. Not ever Tony. As if she hadn’t just fucking jinxed the whole op by saying that she “was worried” about him out loud. As if saying that changed anything or made anything better.

So that day, that long ass day, he was cursing the fact that Tony had talked him into offering Kate a job. She might be a good profiler when it came to random strangers and perps, but she did seem to have a blind fucking spot that a mack truck could drive through when it came to Tony. She could not for the life of her see past the man’s masks, and sometimes it just drove him up the goddamned wall watching Tony bait her and flash his shiny, frat-boy persona at her, loving that she swallowed it up, hook, line and sinker.

And now, _she’s_ worried about Tony? He smacked his hands on the steering wheel in frustration. She only thought she knew what worrying was. He’s fucking frantic with worry, and interspersed with the worry were the always ever-present images of the crime scene photos of his beautiful Shannon and Kelly. Fuck. He was _not_ going there today. He was not going to imagine Tony lying dead in a ditch somewhere because they’d fucking lost his fucking GPS signal.

And seriously, if he had one more fucking call about a godforsaken VW, he was going to push Kate right out of the car as they were speeding along. He couldn’t very well throw his phone out of the car now, could he? Since DiNozzo was undercover without a GPS tracker, his phone could very well be his lifeline to the man. But Kate…he glared at her, eyes narrowed. The only thing that stopped him from biting her head off was Tony’s parting words to him – to not let Kate drive him nuts. So he held his tongue, and concentrated on the op. Concentrated on trying to dig them out of this clusterfuck of a situation.

But of course, DiNozzo being DiNozzo still managed to leave them breadcrumbs. The shih-tzu named Kate, yappy, kind of mangy, that the motorcyclist spoke about almost made him laugh out loud. And Kate’s outrage at hearing about DiNozzo’s missing ‘dog’ was priceless. Gibbs wished that Tony could be there in person to hear it. He couldn’t wait to tell the man about it later – when the op was over and Tony was safely back where he belonged, in his arms and in his bed.

They found the clue in the payphone at the gas station and that helped his mood.

But when they learned about the fact that Lane Harrison, White’s partner was a suspected serial killer (in Abby’s words, a real Mack the Knife), his heart fell right down to the bottom of his shoes again. What the hell had DiNozzo gotten himself into?

He had been so hopeful when the pay phone led them to the hunting cabin. But when they went through it and didn’t find anyone, and a perimeter check made them uncover the poorly hidden body, for a split second he thought he saw Tony lying dead, throat cut, in the dirt. But it wasn’t Tony. And it wasn’t Jeffrey White either. It was Harrison. Which meant that the ‘pussycat’ that he had shackled the love of his life to was, in fact, the crazed psychopathic knife-wielding serial killer.

And then he started getting all those hang ups. First the calls about the VW. Then the hang ups. And now this? Harrison was dead, White was a serial killer, and DiNozzo was alone with the man, unarmed, unsuspecting, and completely oblivious of these new developments.

When he finally figured out the hang ups and McGee was tracking the cell phone they were coming from – Harrison’s phone – he began to breathe easier. Maybe there was hope. DiNozzo was slippery. He was definitely one for getting himself into trouble, but when push came to shove, the man was also good at getting himself out of it. They followed his cell phone signal, and when they lost that, they managed to locate the buyer and track his cell phone instead.

But when they got there, and Kate had her gun out, keeping the buyer where he was, Gibbs found himself running to the car, seeing the blood splashed on the rear window, he could barely keep himself upright. He forced himself to go closer on leaden feet. Opened the door and saw White lying dead in the back seat and DiNozzo slumped forward, chin on his chest, in the driver’s seat.

For one heart-stopping moment he thought that that was it. That Tony was dead. That Tony was no more. And for one irrational moment, he laid the blame of his Tony’s death entirely on Kate for expressing her worry about him out fucking loud (chrissakes, who fucking _does_ that and jinxes everything?).

But then Tony raised his head. His eyes were so cold, it didn’t even look like Tony. It looked like a stranger.

“I really liked him,” the stranger said.

And Gibbs could see that. And said so.

While they sorted everything out, DiNozzo sat quietly in the back seat of their car watching as Ducky and Palmer did their thing and teams of NCIS agents secured the location and the recovered Iraqi antiquities. Ducky had insisted on examining DiNozzo, and had placed a bandage over the shallow cut on his neck – a reminder of how close a call it had been with White.

It worried Gibbs how quiet DiNozzo was. He spoke only when spoken to. He exhibited none of DiNozzo’s usual habits – no nervous chattering, no talking, no vibrating with energy, no fingers or toes tapping to the music in his head that he heard all the time (he’d confessed this tidbit to him once, a long time ago, when he was almost blind drunk), no mischievous smile as he argued for the sake of argument, none of his normal ways of dispelling extra energy. Instead he just sat there, still as a statue, looking out the window at nothing in particular.

On the long drive back to the Navy Yard, he stayed in the back seat, not fighting for shotgun the way he usually did. He kept his eyes out the window and ignored everything. Ignored all of Kate’s attempts at conversation.

At one point when she started getting too insistent, he turned and gave her a look, his eyes cold and threatening, so unlike the usual good-natured DiNozzo mock glares that it shut her up. She turned away and gave Gibbs a helpless look which he ignored, instead choosing to speed up so they could get back to familiar ground as quickly as possible.

He looked in the rear view mirror and DiNozzo caught his eye. His eyes glittered coolly, a barely veiled anger simmering behind those hard green depths.

And he understood. Tony wasn’t back yet. Not really. He’d had to be this criminal, this desperate murderer, for too long, and Jeffrey White had somehow managed to really affect him and get under his skin. He’d had to be someone who killed a person that he’d liked, that he’d considered a friend, before he could get his own throat cut. He wasn’t Tony DiNozzo right now, Tony DiNozzo who let anything and everything roll off his back like a duck, and he was not in the mood to be given a hard time by would-be profilers who just wanted to get things back to the status quo.

DiNozzo looked away then, turning back to the window, that faraway I’m-going-to-escape look back in his eyes. With the additional who-do-I-have-to-kill-to-get-out-of-here look thrown in. And Gibbs had to suppress a shudder. Sometimes he wondered what Tony’s childhood must have really been like. It must have truly been awful to make him be able to be like this when he needed to be. To pretend to be someone else so completely as to obscure his own identity. Sure, Gibbs was a bastard, and openly so, and was no stranger to undercover work himself. And his life had not been a cakewalk either. But he had had a good childhood with loving and supportive parents, even if his relationship with his dad had gone to hell after the death of his mom. He didn’t feel a need to pretend to be somebody else so completely.

But Tony did sometimes. What little that he’d revealed about his childhood had always been negative but always couched in a funny story, as if he were joking. Gibbs knew though, that those stories were only the tip of the iceberg. And like the one that had sunk the Titanic, Tony’s childhood was a source of pain that was bigger than even Gibbs could imagine. Something that not only did Tony rarely talk about but, in Gibbs’ opinion, he rarely even thought about or confronted even within himself. It was something that the young man had always buried, as thoroughly as he could. Not that Gibbs himself was a font of knowledge about his own past, but he had always been honest with Tony and told him whatever he wanted to know. But even when he asked the young man point blank, in language as direct as he could, to the tune of “Did your father physically hit you when you were a child?” Tony would deflect and move on, taking the conversation elsewhere or, if he was in a less forgiving mood, he would take himself elsewhere for a few days.

Because Tony was damaged. Always had been. It was one of those things that had been so attractive about him – the danger of being close to all that damage, all the raw, open wounds in his soul, that it could suck him down, suck Tony down into an unfathomable depth. The danger of being so close to that darkness, whose depths were even deeper and murkier than his own, it called to him. To be close to Tony was to flirt with the darkness within his own soul, and some days he wondered whether Tony would ultimately be the one to drag him down and not the other way around.

But the strength of the man. To refuse to succumb. To refuse to let the darkness win. To sit in the office and blow spitballs at his teammates, instead of expressing all that rage and pain and loss that those laughing green eyes hid so well.

But here, right here, in the car with them was that Tony. The damaged one, who was barely containing his rage.

They would all need to tread lightly around him for the next few days, until their Tony came back. He would have to find a way to tell Kate and Abby this. McGee would probably be thankful to be out of Tony’s usual firing line to question why. But Kate and Abby would push, and this was _not_ a good time for that. He needed to find a way to bring his Tony home as quickly as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team's initial reactions to the Tony that returned.

Kate couldn’t believe the latitude that Gibbs was giving Tony. It was strange. Tony had been behaving so strangely, starting from the drive back from Newport News. He’d sat quietly, practically unresponsive in the back seat, and she had to admit it, at first she thought he was just pulling her leg, being quiet just to get a rise out of her. But when she had tried to provoke him into a reaction, all he did was give her the coldest stare she had ever received. His green eyes so menacing that it had made her blood run cold. She’d looked to Gibbs to slap him in the back of his head and make him react normally, but their boss had only given her a warning look and left him well alone.

Gibbs had even cut him some slack on the paperwork. When they arrived back at the Navy Yard, Tony had been asked to sit in the Conference Room and Gibbs had taken McGee in with him to take Tony’s statement. After which, the team lead had asked McGee to draft Tony’s report for him and hold on to it for a few days.

Gibbs had not only asked McGee to do Tony’s job for him, but was giving the man a few days to finalize it? Their hard taskmaster of a boss, who would never even consider going home after a case was solved, not until all their paperwork was turned in and approved, word-perfect, with no issues that could be nit-picked at by any lawyer? Gibbs was giving _Tony_ , of all people, the person he always seemed to come down the hardest on regardless of the effort that the man put into the work (and try as she might to deny it, Kate knew that Tony worked much harder than either she or McGee did, but somehow managed to come away looking like he did nothing) so much breathing room. Even asking McGee to do part of Tony’s job. While the man sat and stared at nothing.

What the hell was wrong with this picture?

But when Kate had asked McGee how the debrief went, the younger man had stuttered and sighed, shaking his head.

“What? What happened in there, McGee?” Kate had demanded.

Looking around to see if anyone was watching, McGee grabbed her arm and dragged her down to Abby’s lab.

When he, Kate and Abby were safely sequestered in Abby’s inner office, the music turned off, McGee started speaking.

“Abby? Have you talked to Tony since we got back?” he asked her.

Abby shook her head. “Been so busy processing all the evidence from the crime scenes, and working with the Smithsonian and other groups to authenticate the recovered Iraqi antiquities that I haven’t had a chance to go look for him. There’s this one artifact that is so cool, it’s like…”

“Abby, focus, please,” Kate said gently. “We’re asking you about Tony.”

“Oh right,” Abby grinned. “I know he came back with you guys and it was another close call, right? But he hasn’t come down to see me, which is really odd,” she sucked noisily on her ever-present Caf-Pow.

“Why’s it odd?” Kate asked.

“He knows that he has to come by and reassure me that he’s OK after every undercover op,” Abby said. “It’s a thing we do. We’ve done it since he started working for Gibbs. He comes back from an undercover op and I give him an extra special welcome-back-to-your-own-life-love-Abby hug. It’s our thing.” She shrugs and looks guilty. “I hope he’s not mad at me for putting the GPS in his shoe and then us losing him because of the fall into the creek and all that. I really hope he’s not upset…”

Kate grabbed Abby’s hand to stop the rant and shook her head. “No, I’m sure he’s not mad at you. Nobody could be mad at you.”

McGee blew out a breath. “He’s not being himself,” he finally said softly.

“Why are we in here, hiding, to talk about this?” Kate demanded.

McGee looked around guiltily, even though they were securely in Abby’s office and she had closed the door. “He’s acting so weird,” he blurted out. “During the debrief, I mean. He sat there, staring at Gibbs. I don’t know. I would have said he was cold, arrogant and deliberately insolent.”

“Tony is _always_ insolent,” Kate scoffed.

“Not like this,” McGee shook his head firmly. “Not like this, Kate. He didn’t even _look_ at me the whole time we were in there, and Gibbs was talking to him using this…this _voice_.”

“What kind of voice?” Abby asked.

McGee made a strangled sound of frustration. “Like he’s talking to an abused child? But one that might turn around and attack him…” he trailed off. “I c-can’t explain it. Gibbs wasn’t talking to him like he usually does. He was talking to him differently. And Tony didn’t make one joke. _Not one_. No movie references. He called me ‘Agent McGee’ politely. He didn’t called me Probie or any of those annoying McNames. Or any of the hundreds of other nicknames that he has for me. He answered the questions calmly, and took us through a play by play of the whole thing from their escape onwards. He was methodical and spoke as if he was already writing a report, very detached from what was happening. Dispassionate. And he talked about how he had had to shoot Jeffrey White like he was talking about, I don’t know, his uninteresting dinner from last week or something. It seemed to have no impact on him. He had absolutely no reaction to killing someone!”

Abby frowned and pursed her lips.

“What?” McGee caught her look. “What, Abby? What’s going on with him?”

“Shit,” she said softly. “I didn’t think he would be this bad…He really wasn’t gone _that_ long.”

“What?” Kate asked.

Abby looked at them, undecided, worry in her eyes.

“Tell us,” McGee added. “Please, Abs.”

Abby scrubbed her face with her hands and sighed. They were his teammates and might have to be in the field with the man in the next few days. She had to tell them. “I don’t think Tony’s back yet,” she finally said.

“What do you mean Tony’s not back yet? He’s back! He was in the car with us! White didn’t kill him. He killed White instead!” Kate practically yelled.

“Kate… _our_ Tony isn’t back yet,” Abby said in a small voice.

“What are you _talking_ about?” Kate was starting to get angry.

“Hey, don’t yell at Abby,” McGee snapped, seeing the worry and fear in Abby’s eyes.

Immediately, Kate is remorseful, taking Abby’s hand again and apologizing.

“But Abby, you have to explain what you’re saying,” McGee said. “What do you mean that our Tony’s not back yet?”

Abby exhaled loudly. “Look, don’t you ever tell Tony I told you guys this…” she said threateningly. “This is off limits. Do not tease him about this or I swear he will probably quit this job and we won’t ever see him again.”

McGee and Kate nodded, seeing how serious Abby was. This wasn’t Abby’s usual brand of hyperbole. This was Abby trying to do right by her friend, and Tony was one of her best friends. She and Tony had been friends a lot longer than she had been friends with either Kate or McGee. Abby looked into each of their faces and nodded when she was convinced that they were taking her seriously.

“Back when Tony first started here, he went on this one undercover op and it got hinky at the end. It was a nightmare. He was out of contact for two whole weeks – you do _not_ want to know what kind of a bear Gibbs was during this time. But anyway, he finally called in, gave the signal, and they went in for the takedown. Tony was wounded – gunshot – but not too seriously injured. But he’d been shot by the guy that he’d befriended. The guy that was his mark. His in. He’d had to shoot him back, in self defense. He killed the man.”

McGee’s eyes were wide and Kate was looking at her seriously.

“In the hospital Tony refused visitors. Not even Gibbs. He gave his statement but it was just off, you know? He didn’t even tell anyone when he checked himself out of the hospital and went home. Gibbs took me to see him the next morning and he just wasn’t there anymore. Gibbs was ma-ad,” she dragged the word out into two syllables. “He dropped me off at work and tore out of here. But he came back a couple of hours later and just told me to lay off Tony for a few days.”

“What? Why?”

“Tony wasn’t really back yet. He was still the bad guy. The guy undercover. He’d gone too deep,” Abby said. “He was distant and aloof. He wasn’t himself. He didn’t talk to me. He kept chewing gum,” Abby made a face at the distasteful memory. “And he just refused to be touched. Not by anyone. Gibbs didn’t give him any headslaps, and he told me not to hug Tony for a few days.”

“Then what happened?”

“I dunno,” Abby shrugged. “We left him alone for a while. Even Gibbs, I think. Although I can’t really be sure of that. He probably didn’t leave Tony alone. I bet he just did his usual Gibbs magic to help Tony get better. Anyway, a week later he was back to normal and we all pretended like the previous week never happened.”

Kate frowned at her. “So you’re saying that he’s still this criminal Tony who escaped from prison by ‘killing’ a prison guard?”

Abby shrugged again. “Kind of. Not fully. But based on what McGee’s telling me, yeah, he’s not really our Tony yet. That would be my guess.”

“He’s not just trying to prank us?”

Abby shook her head. “You don’t actually believe that, Kate.”

The older woman sighed. She thought of Tony’s cold eyes, boring into her in the car, and suppressed a shudder. “He’s not pranking us,” she agreed.

“So what do we do?” McGee wanted to know.

Abby shrugged. “Nothing,” she grimaced. “I don’t think we can do anything except give him time to come off this and come back to himself. And let the Bossman work his magic to bring our Tony back home safe to us.”

“What would _Gibbs_ be able to do that _we_ can’t?” Kate demanded. “We’re his friends, too. We’re nicer to him than Gibbs ever is!”

Abby just gave her a look which deflated her.

“OK fine,” Kate conceded. “Gibbs will be the one to help him. But why can’t we just help him too? Remind him who he is?”

“Um…I don’t know about you, but the Tony who gave his statement to Gibbs today would as soon shoot me as look at me,” McGee tried to hide the fear and nervousness but knew that he was stuttering and not doing a good job of being a confident agent, despite having just told the Deputy Secretary of State to suck it. When he sat with Tony earlier, this version of their Senior Field Agent scared him even more than the Deputy Secretary of State did. Although he would _never_ admit that to anyone. “I’m happy to let the Boss take care of Tony, to be honest.”

Kate looked at him sharply and saw that he wasn’t kidding. “Maybe Gibbs should send him to see a shrink?”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Gibbs’ voice made them all jump. “Just leave him alone for a few days. He’ll be back to normal before you know it. Sending him to a shrink will only make it worse.”

“But…”

“Kate, go back to the bullpen and work on your reports,” Gibbs ordered. “You, too, McGee. I’ll be right up.”

“What’s Tony doing?” Kate asked.

“He’s sitting in the conference room.”

“He’s probably playing games on his fucking phone,” Kate complained.

“No, Kate. He is _not_ playing games on his phone. He is sitting in the conference room and looking out the fucking window like he wants to escape again,” Gibbs said, the anger evident in his voice. “He is not himself. So leave him the fuck alone and get on back to work! Now!”

Kate and McGee scurried away silently.

Abby stared at Gibbs, her eyes wide and sad. _How can I help?_ she signed, reverting as she often did when she was nervous or scared.

Gibbs shrugged. _Just, keep an eye on those two and keep them off Tony’s back_ , he signed back. _I don’t know why but White got to him. You stay away from him, too._

Abby nodded. _You’ll help him figure it out, Bossman. You always do_.

Gibbs kissed her temple, handed her a fresh Caf-Pow and left the lab, hoping Abby wasn’t wrong in placing her trust in him.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Instead of going back to the bullpen, Gibbs stopped by Autopsy first. Ducky and Palmer were elbow deep in Jeffrey White’s remains. Even though the cause of death was quite evident – Tony had shot the man in the head and neck – Ducky was doing his due diligence and completing a full autopsy as White would be classified as a death-in-custody and they would need to make sure everything was in order, i's dotted and t’s crossed to ensure Tony would be cleared at the inquiry.

Gibbs walked in, frowning.

“Oh, Jethro, you are far too early for me to have any conclusions other than the obvious cause of death for this poor young man,” Ducky admonished him gently.

“This ‘poor young man’ is a serial killer, Duck,” Gibbs snarled, wishing he could spit into the open body cavity. But that would be contaminating the evidence and he wouldn’t do that. Maybe when the inquiry was over and White was to be interred in some potter’s field, he’d be able to indulge. But not now. “This ‘poor young man’ almost made DiNozzo one of his numerous victims.”

Ducky sighed and pulled his gloves off, looking at Gibbs intently. Gibbs obviously needed to get something off his chest. Before he could ask Jimmy to take a break, Gibbs had fixed the nervous young man with a death glare.

“Scram,” he said menacingly. And Jimmy swallowed audibly, stripped his gloves, helmet and protective gear off, and practically ran out of Autopsy, shaking like a leaf.

Ducky watched him leave and shook his head, clucking at Gibbs who just ignored everything, staying silent until Palmer had scrambled into the stairwell.

“What can I do for you then, Jethro?” Ducky asked quietly.

Gibbs’ pursed his lips, frowning. “I need you to tell DiNozzo that he’s on desk duty for a while.”

“Desk duty? He’s fine, Jethro. The cut on his neck is shallow. He’s very lucky. Even a quarter inch deeper and it would be a different story, but as it is, he’s perfectly fine for fieldwork.”

“Physically he’s fine. But he’s not back yet, Duck.”

Ducky looked into Gibbs’ intense blue gaze.

“Like that time…?”

Gibbs inclined his head in agreement.

“Oh, dear,” Ducky breathed.

“Yep.”

“Shouldn’t I just send him home for a few days?”

Gibbs shrugged. “That would be OK, except he would be alone at home. I…can’t trust him not to do something crazy right now, Duck. I need him to sit at his desk where I can keep an eye on him.”

Ducky nodded. “I see. But what about at night?”

“He’ll be staying with me for a while.”

“Is that wise?”

“He can’t be left alone right now, Duck,” Gibbs said, scrubbing his face. “I can’t reach him. Not right now. But I need to be there when he starts coming back to us.”

“I can’t just tell him he’s not allowed in the field. Anthony will object.”

“He’s not really DiNozzo,” Gibbs insisted. “Don’t just take my word for this. Talk to him for five minutes, Duck. If you think it’s safe for him to be left alone, then you give him medical leave for a week. Make sure to write me a note, too. I won’t leave him alone with all day to get himself in who knows what kind of trouble. But the way he is right now, I’m pretty sure, if left alone to our own devices at home all day with each other, one of us will be dead before the end of the week.”

Ducky sighed. Gibbs was not one for melodramatics, so he believed the silver-haired man, but he would need to do his own assessment of young Anthony. “All right,” he finally agreed. “Send him down to me. I’ll talk to him for a few minutes and see for myself.”

Gibbs inclined his head again. “Thanks, Duck. I’ll send him right down.” He walked to the exit and turned back. “Might want to make sure you put away all your scalpels. Count them after he leaves Autopsy. And don’t let him see that fucker,” he jerked his chin towards White’s body.

“Better give me a half hour then. And if you see young Mr Palmer, do send him back. Gently, please. You’ve already scared him half to death once today, Jethro.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes and smirked before he left. Scaring Palmer was too easy and it usually annoyed him. Palmer needed more backbone and he preferred a challenge. But today, Palmer’s scared eyes was exactly what he needed to make him feel better. He could hear Tony laughing at him and making fun of him – what kind of man would need a scared little Autopsy Gremlin’s fear to make him feel better? But that thought, that Tony would tease him about this made him smile. Except this Tony that they had now wouldn’t tease him or make him smile, and that put him in an even darker mood than when he’d gone into Autopsy.

Ducky sighed and began putting his tools away.

Promptly thirty minutes later, McGee escorted Tony down to Autopsy. Ducky ushered him into the inner office and stared as McGee positioned himself outside the inner door.

“Why, Timothy, what on earth _are_ you doing?”

“B-boss told me to stand guard, D-ducky,” McGee stuttered.

Tony stood silently next to him, ignoring him completely.

Ducky stared at him for a long moment before he turned away, shaking his head. He closed the door and pointed to his old sofa, pulling a chair over for himself.

“Anthony, let me examine your neck for a moment,” he began.

Twenty minutes later, Ducky had changed the bandage on Tony’s neck and had had a disturbingly difficult time getting Tony to speak. All his questions were met with polite but monosyllabic answers. He watched the young man openly ignore him when he went off into a tangential story – their Tony loved his stories and always listened attentively. But this Tony was showing open disgust at having to be subjected to this conversation. Even when Ducky purposely segued into a story about how he had almost met Sean Connery during the filming of one of the Bond movies, there was not even a flicker of interest in Tony’s bored green eyes. Their Tony would be salivating and begging for details and doing his Sean Connery impression ad infinitum.

He finally let Tony go, and watched as McGee escorted the silent man back to the elevator. Despite McGee’s stuttered attempts at engaging him in conversation, Tony did not respond, not even to look at the probie. He stood, calmly facing forward, occasionally inspecting his fingernails, mute and unresponsive to all of McGee’s overtures, as if the junior agent were not even there.

Ducky sighed. Gibbs was right. Of course Gibbs was right. Gibbs was always right about what to do about Tony. He called Gibbs and told him that he was ordering Tony to be on desk duty for at least a week.

Gibbs grunted and hung up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate is persistent, and Gibbs experiences the first night at home with this Tony.

That night, Gibbs ushered the silent un-Tony into his house and thought he saw the young man’s stance relax almost imperceptibly. Whatever else was going on in his head right now, his Tony was in there somewhere. He’d worried that Tony would kick up a fuss and insist on going back to his apartment, and while Gibbs was fine with staying at Tony’s – he’d started spending more time there lately anyway – but there was only one bedroom and he wasn’t sure how Tony would feel about sharing a bed. Or him sacking out on the sofa. But the advantage of the silent Tony was that he didn’t object to anything and just seemed to go along without objections, as long as he was left alone.

Tony showered and dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt that Gibbs laid out for him and when he came downstairs, Gibbs had pizza and beer waiting for him. The young man nodded a silent thank you, ate his dinner in silence, and then wordlessly went to bed. In the guest bedroom.

Gibbs went down to work on the boat, and when he came up to go to bed, he stood outside the guest room and looked in. Tony was lying on his back, very still, sleeping so quietly that Gibbs had to walk in and get closer to assure himself that he was, in fact, still breathing.

He gently brushed his fingers through Tony’s hair before going to his bedroom to sleep.

Luckily for them, the paperwork required for so many recovered antiquities, their re-authentication, and the measures that they had to take to ensure they weren’t stolen yet again were extensive and was full time work for several days for the entire team. They sat in the bullpen working on their reports and on coordinating the transfer of the artifacts back to Iraq.

Tony still spaced out and stared out the window a lot, but Gibbs pretended not to notice it, or the shocked looks from Kate. Kate, who obviously still thought that he should head slap the man and send him to a shrink so everything would be fixed as if it was magic. But he knew Tony. And he knew that sending the man to a shrink now, when he’s unprepared to handle it, would be the kind of betrayal that Tony would never recover from when he was truly back. Tony trusted him to watch his six, and this was watching his six, regardless of what Kate thought.

Despite his warnings from the previous day to leave Tony the hell alone, he caught Kate trying to cajole him or annoy him into some kind of response a few times that day. But Tony stayed silent, green eyes flicking briefly at Kate, managing to convey his disgust of her poor attempts at drawing him out in that one brief look before his gaze wandered away, back to the view of the Potomac, or to the papers in his hand. Each time he caught her at it, Gibbs would deliver a hard headslap and send Kate down to Abby’s lab or to Autopsy, growling at her.

That night, Tony was again silent as they ate dinner. But Gibbs decided that if Tony was going to be quiet, then he wouldn’t be. In a strange sort of role reversal, he found himself talking about all kinds of things, mostly about work, passing along the gossip that Tony might have missed, and when he ran out of things to say, he started talking about the finer points of wood-working. He hadn’t talked so much in like…ever. But he thought there were times when Tony would nod slightly at something that he said, or his eyes would flash, showing mild interest, so he kept at it. Until Tony raised an eyebrow and inclined his head up the stairs.

“Headed up to bed?” he asked.

Tony nodded.

“Good night then, honey. Sleep tight.”

Tony nodded again, and quietly disappeared up the stairs. As with the previous night, Gibbs went down to the basement and worked on the boat, before he went up to bed, stopping to stare longingly at Tony’s sleeping form in the guest room.

At some point in the middle of the night, he felt his bed dip. Blearily, he watched as Tony quietly slipped into their bed, turned his back to him, and finally seemed to relax a little more, lying on his side. It took everything in him not to pull the young man into his arms, but Tony had left a foot of space between them. That foot felt like a canyon in between them, but at least Tony was in his bed and not in the guest room. So he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

When he awoke again in the morning, Tony was gone but the depression in his pillow was still warm. He’d just gotten up.

Sighing, Gibbs sat up and started his day. Baby steps. He hoped that Kate would stop trying to force the issue with Tony at work. He’d certainly done his best to discourage it but Kate sometimes needed reminders.

When Gibbs was called away to a meeting in MTAC and he shot warning looks to both Kate and McGee, even going so far as to send Kate down to Forensics for some errand or other to hopefully keep her out of Tony’s hair. But after the meeting, as he was walking down from MTAC, he saw Kate trying to antagonize Tony, getting right in his face and challenging him while McGee cringed and pretended to be invisible, sitting at his desk. Tony just looked at her and, for lack of a better word, he growled. Deep in his chest, a low, threatening growl, and Gibbs caught a brief glimpse of Tony’s narrowed eyes, simmering with barely contained rage. Kate squeaked and scrambled to back away to her desk. And then Tony just turned to look dreamily out the window again.

Gibbs wasn’t sure what he felt, seeing that. On the one hand, Tony was obviously more than capable of getting rid of unwanted attention – not even needing to say a word to do it. But on the other hand, he was actively pushing away his teammates and probably scaring them in the process. He was still obviously not his Tony yet. And Gibbs missed his Tony terribly.

The next few days were pure hell. Tony sat at his desk, finally starting on his share of the paperwork. Or more often, Gibbs would hand him cold cases to review and kept him out of the action of the aftermath of the White case. Abby would come up to just look longingly at Tony several times a day while the man studiously ignored everyone. He ate and drank whatever was placed on his desk without comment, but he never asked for anything. Not even if the team got so busy that they skipped meals, something that was pretty standard for the team. But he never said a word, which made Kate wonder – if they weren’t bringing him his meals, would he even eat?

She found herself talking to Abby about this, and worrying about how Tony was at nights all alone, until Abby growled in frustration.

“What?” she scowled at the Goth.

“Open your eyes,” Abby said, her concern for Tony making her tone sharper than she meant it to be. “Gibbs is watching him at night. He’s not alone. Gibbs isn’t going to just stop being on his six just because the work day is over, Kate.”

“Wait…You mean…?”

Abby shrugged, palms raised, eyes wide, expecting Kate to fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” Kate breathed, eyes widening as understanding washed over her. “Tony’s staying…at Gibbs’?”

“Well, duh,” Abby rolled her eyes. “Gibbs always takes Tony home when there’s something wrong with him. It’s part of Tony’s healing process.”

“Oh,” she said again. “Well, I guess that’s OK then.”

Abby grinned. “Gibbs might be hard on Tony, Kate. But he likes him. He just doesn’t like anyone to think he’s human like that. Because, you know, he’s Gibbs. But of course he likes Tony. It’s _Tony_. Who doesn’t like Tony?” Abby made a face.

Kate opened her mouth to assert that she didn’t when she realized that of course she did. Tony was arrogant, annoying, disrespectful, nosey, and somehow simultaneously both a lying sack of shit and the most honest person she knew, but hell, he really was so fucking likeable it was part of what annoyed her. She chuckled and shook her head. “You’re right, Abs,” she conceded. “It’s impossible not to like Tony.”

Abby grinned back. “Sometimes it creeps up on you,” she said knowingly.

“What?”

“The knowledge that Tony covers so much fucking shit up with all that…whatever the hell that is –“ Abby wiggled her fingers to express the inexpressible, “but underneath all that fucked up shit is the nicest fucking guy you could ever meet. And that’s why he’s so damned likeable.”

Kate shook his head. “Fuck,” she swore. “Tony _is_ a nice guy.” She thought about it some more. Tony was like an overly aggressive puppy dog with teething pains – chewing everything up, and pissing on everything by accident. But then he’d fetch a stick or a ball and roll over, tongue lolling, and be so damned cute that everything was forgiven. Except right now, when he was decidedly not being himself. She shuddered at the memory of that feral growl and the accompanying ominous look that had been his response to her aggressively trying to get a response out of him. He still hadn’t said a word to anyone that she’d heard, and Gibbs was definitely just leaving him be.

She sighed and scrubbed her face. “I don’t know how much of this Tony I can take,” she finally admitted to Abby. “He just sits there. Looks out the goddamned window. Or at his cold cases. He doesn’t even sigh or whine or mutter under his breath, or tap his fingers in that way that he has, when he’s thinking and not realizing what he’s doing.”

“McGee told me that he snarled at you the other day,” Abby said sympathetically.

“I call it a growl,” Kate admitted.

“McGee said it was the scariest thing he ever heard. Scarier than Gibbs’ growls even.”

Kate nodded. “Well, Gibbs’ growls are complicated. But when Tony made that sound…Shit, Abs, I’m a trained federal agent, and it scared me. It’s like he couldn’t even find the words to threaten me and that noise that he made…I never want to hear that again,” she sighed, refusing to put into words the thought that Tony barely even seemed human when he’d growled at her. “I never thought I would ever say this, Abby, but I miss him looking me up and down every morning and mentally rating my looks for the day. Or blowing spitballs at me. Or trying to make me look bad in front of Gibbs. Hell, I miss the sound of his voice. He hasn’t said anything to anyone in days. Probably since Gibbs and McGee took his statement. I will _kill_ you Abby, if you ever repeat this to anyone. But I’ll take the days when I want to stuff my purse down his throat to shut him up over this silent Tony, any day.”

Abby hugged her. “I know, Kate. I miss him too. But he’ll be back. Give him a few more days.”

Kate nodded.

“Let Gibbs work his magic,” the Goth said reassuringly.

Kate shrewdly kept her doubts about Gibbs and his supposed magical ability to make Tony go back to normal to herself. No need to alienate Abby, too. Her head was still aching from the sheer number of headslaps that Gibbs had given her since Tony’s return – some of it deserved when she was trying to get a rise out of Tony, others not so deserved. But she guessed that Gibbs needed an outlet and Tony, his usual target for headslaps, was currently not available. Which made Kate think twice about whether or not Tony actually deserved all the head slaps that he received, or if he had elected himself designated head slap target to spare her and McGee? She shied away from that thought – as if Tony would stop and think that hard about the welfare of his favorite tormentees.

“Besides, he rates each item that you’re wearing separately, then your shoes, then your hair, and then your makeup,” Abby grinned mischievously. “Not just your overall look for the day.”

“That _fucker_!” Kate almost screamed. “I’m _so_ fucking going to _kill_ him when he’s back with us!”

Abby giggled and clapped her hands.

“Wait a minute…” Kate glared at the younger woman. “How do _you_ know all this?”

“Uh, he told me about it?” Abby said, trying to look innocent.

“You snake! You do it too!” Kate exclaimed.

Abby shrugged, grinning unashamedly. “We like to be scientific about things,” she agreed. “So, we take Tony’s numbers, and my numbers, and we average it out. Turns out, we both like that lavender top you don’t wear that often. The one that usually means you’re running out of clean clothes.”

“That top is way too low cut for the office!” Kate snapped, knowing exactly which top Abby was referencing.

“That’s why Tony and I both like it. Well, Tony probably likes it for more reasons than I do, you do have perky breasts and Tony does like breasts. I don’t mind them, but I prefer staring at a woman’s legs myself. Especially if they’re wearing panty hose with that line going up the back? Mmm, that’s sexy. But really, we both like that you’re thumbing your nose at the NCIS dress code when you wear that lavender top.”

Abby blithely ignored Kate’s dark frown.

“What?” she grinned. “Just _look_ at me, Kate. I’m the poster child for thumbing my nose at everyone’s dress code.”

Kate had to laugh, seeing that Abby was wearing the tiniest black miniskirt with what looked like a pink belt with skulls on it, and a tight white baby-T with the words FECAL EXTRUSION emblazoned in brown lettering – probably the name of one of the bands that she favored – under her white lab coat. Thigh-high combat boots completed her look, along with her ubiquitous dog collar, tattoos, piercings and dramatic make up.

“Besides, you’re not the only one that we rate,” Abby continued.

Kate looked quizzically at her. “Let me guess, you guys rate that Sandra from Accounting that keeps coming up and wiggling her ass at Tony?”

“Nah,” Abby scoffed. “Once Tony decides to hit that, he’ll be so over her. He only hasn’t cause she’s too eager. He likes the fun of the chase and she’s too willing. Besides, we don’t see her every day. No, we need consistency. So we rate the people we see every day!”

“Who else do you see every day?” Kate racked her brain trying to think of any other woman that they might encounter on a daily basis and coming up empty.

Abby rolled her eyes. “You can be so dense sometimes Kate,” she shook her head.

“Seriously! I can’t think of anyone that you and Tony would both see every day!”

Abby sighed in disgust. “Hel _lo_! McGee and the Bossman, of course. Although we both agree the Bossman always looks good and his wardrobe is not extensive and contains pretty much the same things in different colors. But he really makes it work somehow. I think it’s all in his attitude – he makes everything work for him.”

“Tony rates McGee and…and Gibbs?” Kate was unable to wrap her brain around this.

“We rate me, too. And Tony. Although obviously neither Tony nor I are unbiased in our rating of ourselves. Although Tony is extremely harsh on himself, in all honesty. So harsh it’s hard to hear sometimes. So I go extra easy on him to compensate. Or our numbers would be way skewed and we can’t have that.”

“You and Tony rate all of us?”

Abby nodded. “Yep. When we have time of course.”

“Why would Tony even…How would he even be able to…rate McGee and Gibbs? They’re…they’re…”

“NCIS Special Agents?” Abby supplied obligingly, grinning at Kate’s answering glare.

Kate continued to sputter incoherently.

Abby shook her head. “It would be misogynistic of us if Tony and I only rated the female members of the team. So in all fairness, we rate everyone, including ourselves.”

All Kate could do was stare at Abby in disbelief until Gibbs walked in with a Caf-Pow for Abby and she hurried away back to the bullpen before Gibbs could slap her head or growl at her – she’s had about enough of head slaps and male teammates’ growls. She sat at her desk, staring thoughtfully at Tony, who was staring out the window again, a folder held loosely in his hands. Tony, the ladies’ man, also rated men? And was extremely harsh on himself? She could hardly believe it. She decided that Tony, big-headed, full of himself Tony, must be pulling one over on Abby if he made her believe that he would find anything even the slightest bit wrong with himself. He was one of the cockiest, most annoyingly self-assured men that she’d ever met. But that Tony would be able to rate McGee and Gibbs? Unbelievable.

In the end she decided to focus on the fact that Tony had rated each item of clothing that she’d ever worn in front of him. And her shoes. And her hair. And her makeup. And held on to that anger, narrowing her eyes at him, just waiting for him to be himself again so she could torture him and punish him for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I am too sleepy to reply to comments tonight so I will try to get to them tomorrow.
> 
> Also just a note that we have a houseguest for the next couple of weeks, so forgive me if I do miss a day of posting of this story. Rest assured that I have completed the story and will try to maintain the one chapter a day posting, buy if I did miss a day I apologize in advance.


	4. Chapter 4

The nights were the worst. Gibbs watched as Tony ate dinner, filling in the silence with his own words, reaching deep into himself and finding things to say, which was always hard for the man of few words that he was. But he did it. And after that, he watched as Tony went to bed in the guest room.

He would immediately retreat to the basement and to his boat, wracked by doubt that he wasn’t doing everything he could. That he should be doing more. That he was failing Tony by more or less talking to himself and not doing anything concrete. But he knew, instinctively, that giving the man space was the way to go. Pushing would only make things worse.

But the agony of doing nothing was getting to him. Gibbs was a man of action. He needed to do things. He needed to not be helpless. He needed to make a difference. It’s what called him to be a Marine (well, that and the siren song of rifles and guns). And it’s what called him to be an NCIS agent (again, the whole rifles and guns thing didn’t hurt there either). But the thing with rifles and guns was that they were a means to an end. And that end was to make the world a better place.

So Gibbs wanted to do something to help Tony, because he needed to do things. But right now, he knew that not doing anything, that waiting, and letting Tony return to himself naturally was what Tony needed. He also knew that all the talking that he was doing was making a difference. And even though talking was really the opposite of taking action, in the end, he loved Tony and would do anything Tony needed him to do.

Hence the nights of almost desperately sanding down the boat and laying off the bourbon after Tony went to bed, in case Tony needed him for anything. One night he had to quit working on the boat, realizing that he was hurting it with his inattention and carelessly shoddy work. So he put his tools away and went upstairs, and for close to an hour, he stood and stared at DiNozzo while he slept, the sight of Tony alive, breathing, and calmly sleeping also calming him enough such that he could eventually climb into his own bed and force himself to sleep.

And every night, at some point after he’d fallen asleep, Tony would climb into his bed and lie with his back to him, strictly maintaining that foot of space at all times. This both comforted him and disturbed him. It comforted him that Tony was somehow acknowledging what they had – that he didn’t hide himself away completely or hold himself so separate from the real Tony and his feelings for Gibbs – but that foot of space was a yawning chasm of everything that was wrong with this situation, and it made Gibbs ache with missing Tony, even though the man was right there in the same bed as he was.

The mornings were just as bad. Every morning, Tony would be up before him, and in the shower or downstairs eating a sensible bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, instead of the Froot Loops, Cap’n Crunch or Cocoa Pebbles that he usually tended to eat. Tony, who always begged for five more minutes of sleep was always up before him which was disconcerting.

The silence was driving Gibbs up the wall. He even _ate_ silently now. The oatmeal was consumed without a word, and was not a crunchy food, so there wasn’t even the usual crunchy masticating noises that Tony would usually make, or he would noisily slurp the milk directly from the bowl and grin happily when Gibbs headslapped him for making too much noise. And even more disturbing was that after this stranger-Tony was done eating, he would drop his bowl and coffee mug in the sink and just leave the kitchen.

His Tony would _never_ do that. His Tony was a neat freak. It normally took a lot for the young man to walk away from a mess, especially one that he’d made himself. His Tony would have washed his bowl, Gibbs’ bowl, his cups, and then wiped down and sanitized the counters. If he was feeling extra fidgety, he would maybe even mopped the floor after breakfast. His Tony had been known to start cleaning up when he got home from the hospital after being shot in the side. But this Tony just left things in the sink and he didn’t even make his bed.

But Gibbs refused to give in to his worry and fear, or show Tony any of it. All Gibbs did was ignore the silence and keep talking to him softly, refusing to let the young man know that he was getting to him. He talked about the boat, about past cases, about this season’s performance by the OSU basketball team, and he would ask him about what to watch that evening and answer his own questions, making suggestions, sometimes choosing movies or TV shows that he knew Tony either loved or hated, just to see if he could get a response from the young man. He even talked about taking a weekend off soon so they could go somewhere together – something that Tony had been bugging him to do but that he’d steadfastly refused. Gibbs did not do vacations, and certainly not with his significant other. He hadn’t gone anywhere on vacation with anyone, not since Shannon died. It had been one of those things that all his ex-wives had hated – that he never took them anywhere just for fun. Never took a break from work to take them on vacation. Never chose them over work. But even this topic didn’t get a response out of the man, not even when he promised him all kinds of things if he would only just come back. At one point, he found himself talking about Shannon and describing in great detail, teaching Kelly how to fish during one of their vacations, to the silent un-Tony. Sometimes he thought he saw a flicker of interest in Tony’s green eyes, but it could have been his imagination or his own wishful thinking.

He decided to make the team work through the weekend to finish up the case, and hand it off properly. He knew though, that it wasn’t so much the concern that the antiquities would be stolen again or damaged or mishandled during this time that made him continue to work through the weekend, but it was his inability to be alone with the quiet un-Tony for the whole weekend that was prompting this. He couldn’t speak continuously for all that time. Tony was the one with the gift of the gab, not him. He could push himself to do it at nights and in the mornings, but the thought of filling all that silence all day long was too much, even for him. He needed to be able to walk away and know that Kate or McGee had their eye on Tony and that the responsibility for him wasn’t entirely on his shoulders. He knew it made him a coward, but he would take being ashamed of himself over the prospect of over forty-eight hours alone with this mute Tony any day.

On the fifth night, when Gibbs came up from the basement, ready for bed, as usual he stopped to look in the guest room and found that it was empty. He couldn’t even tell if Tony had slept in the bed because this Tony never made his bed, and when he felt the bed, it was cool to the touch. No remnants of body heat left on it. Frantically, he checked the bathroom, checked Kelly’s locked room, ran downstairs and looked everywhere, even going outside to see if maybe Tony had decided to walk somewhere. He had his phone in his hand, about to dial Ducky when he went to his bedroom to put his jeans on and mount a real search for the man when he realized that he’d found him. Tony was sleeping in his bed. Still on his side, back to his side of the bed, almost on the edge of the bed so as to ensure the space was maintained between them, but apparently he had gotten into their bed even without Gibbs there.

Calming his pounding heart, Gibbs sat on the bed, glad that nobody was there to witness his trembling fingers.

Tony was in his bed. In their bed.

Eventually, after his heart rate had slowed, and his fingers stopped trembling, he smiled. This was progress.

The next night, he casually invited Tony to bed with him, and to his surprise, the younger man nodded and came upstairs. He shucked his clothes off, leaving them carelessly on the floor (unlike his Tony) and still maintained the space between them, but ended up turning towards him instead of away from him, before falling asleep. Gibbs ran his fingers through Tony’s hair, and smiled when the younger man sighed in his sleep and leaned into his hand. His lips quirked into a small half-smile in his sleep and Gibbs had to forcibly stop himself from pulling the younger man into his arms and waking him up with kisses.

The following night, he didn’t even have to say a word. Tony wordlessly came up to bed with him and again, fell asleep facing him, the space between them less than half what it had been in previous nights.

In the morning, for the first time since Tony had gone undercover, Gibbs woke up with Tony sprawled on him, head pillowed on his chest, drooling on him, one arm around his waist, one leg tangled in between his. He was sleeping so deeply that Gibbs turned both their alarms off and decided to let Tony sleep in.

When the younger man finally stirred, it was after 0800 and his phone was ringing. Gibbs had to answer Tony’s phone and scare McGee by doing it, informing him quietly that he and Tony would be in late that morning. He stroked Tony’s hair, whispering to him to go back to sleep, and Tony yawned, mumbled something about headslaps before he maneuvered more of his body on top of Gibbs and settled back into sleep.

Gibbs was smiling to himself, unable to stop himself from caressing Tony’s back, shoulders, and ass. He laid in bed, holding the young man for another hour before he woke up, kissing Gibbs’ chest before he caught sight of the clock and sprang out of bed.

“Shit!” he yelled. “We’re late, Jet!”

And he pulled the bemused older man out of bed and into the shower where he proceeded to kiss him deeply. Tony kissed Gibbs through their entire shower, sucking gently on his tongue, his tongue pushing into Gibbs’ mouth, tasting him everywhere, while water pounded on them. Gibbs was forced to pull away to breathe and ended up giving them both efficient Marine showers, since Tony had taken so much time just kissing him.

When they walked into the bullpen, Tony pulled his weapon out of his shoulder holster and stowed it and his credentials in the top drawer and watched as Kate walked back from the copy machine, lazily eyeing her up and down, openly and insolently appraising her, making her face flush and hot with his look. Then she watched as he gave the oblivious McGee the same look, and followed up with a crumpled ball of paper thrown unerringly to his forehead.

McGee looked up, shock and hope in his eyes. It was the first time Tony had acknowledged his presence, or even deigned to look at him in over a week.

Tony kept his amused eyes on McGee, meeting his gaze, as he tore another sheet off the notepad on his desk, crumpled it up deliberately, and threw it, hitting McGee’s forehead again before he tossed his backpack under his desk carelessly, dropped into his chair with a loud sigh, and leaned back, putting his feet up on his desk, the notepad in his lap.

Five minutes later, when Kate and McGee had been bombarded with crumpled up balls of paper and a continuous play-by-play account of each shot, including color commentary by OSU basketball star Tony DiNozzo (Tony played his younger self to the hilt), Gibbs slapped Tony’s head and growled at him to finish his reports.

“Thank you, Boss. On it, Boss,” Tony sang with a huge grin, before he powered up his computer and got to work. “Hey, Boss, I have to go see Abby for a minute. I’ll get started on these reports as soon as I get back. She owes me something.”

Gibbs nodded. “Make sure you go see Ducky and see if he’ll clear you for field work.”

“On it, Boss.”

And Gibbs watched as Tony swaggered away, tossing one final crumpled paper ball over his shoulder and hitting the back of Kate’s head. Gibbs grinned as he imagined Abby’s enthusiastic reaction when Tony strolled into her lab and demanded his post-undercover welcome-back-to-your-own-life-love-Abby hug.

McGee and Kate exchanged looks, and smiled at each other. All was right with the world again. Their Tony was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I thank you for your comments and kudos. Another chapter tomorrow, I hope. I will reply to comments tomorrow.
> 
> Definitely having fun with the houseguest!
> 
> Good night!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the Bow Chicka Bow Wow that ShadowWolfsDen and QueeneoftheDeer mentioned in the previous chapter's comments.
> 
> QueeneoftheDeer, this is for you, since you asked for smut in my previous story. Hope you like it :)

It was late that night before they got home. Tony had put in a hard day’s work – finalizing his reports in record time, even buying McGee lunch for drafting one of them for him. He also played hard, making up for lost time by blowing spitballs at both Kate and McGee, and flirting with every skirt that walked by, returning to his usual Very Special Antics. By the end of the day, Kate was ready to push him down the stairs or beg the scary Tony to come back – at least that’s what she said to Abby, but she was careful not to let Tony hear any of this, knowing that bringing up the post-Jeffrey White Tony up to him would be a grave mistake. All day, she threw herself into bickering with him with extra verve, but her complaints lacked their usual barb, and McGee practically begged to be pranked.

Tony would have to break out the superglue the next day, he thought as he dragged himself out of Gibbs’ truck and trudged behind him into the house.

But tonight he was exhausted. Going from the quiet Tony to putting his overgrown frat-boy persona in overdrive for the day was a little much, even for him. He sighed as he stepped through the front door, bracing himself against the wall as his knees almost gave out on him when his brain gave his body the signal that they were home and safe again, and the long day was over.

As if he knew exactly what was happening – and maybe he _did_ know, he was Gibbs, after all – the older man turned and carefully pulled Tony’s arm over his shoulder, helping to hold him up, his blue eyes full of sympathy.

“How about I draw you a bath, honey?” he murmured into Tony’s ear.

“’Kay,” Tony sighed, glad that they’d already eaten in the bullpen as he really didn’t have the energy to even face a meal right then. He let Gibbs help him up the stairs and sat on the toilet, brushing his teeth while the older man filled the tub.

Gibbs smiled at him, watching him drum his fingers on his legs as he waited for his bath to be ready. Even exhausted, his Tony was still tapping his fingers to that unknown music that only he could hear, and Gibbs had missed that. If he never saw Tony sit so still ever again, it would be too soon. The younger man smiled back self-consciously when he noticed the scrutiny. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“Nothing, honey. Just glad to have you home. It was a long day,” Gibbs said.

Tony nodded.

Gibbs started pouring in Tony’s expensive bath oils and put his loofah, sponge, and other bath accoutrements within reach before he slowly undressed the younger man, kissing him softly – not so much to arouse him, but more to fulfill his own need to touch and taste him after such a long hands-off period. Tony sighed contentedly at the gentleness of the movements. When Gibbs took both of his hands, kissing his knuckles, and helped him up and into the tub, he sighed again as the hot water – the perfect temperature to loosen the knots in his back, Gibbs knew him so well – soothed him.

“I’ll be back in a few,” Gibbs whispered in his ear, licking the shell of it, causing the younger man to shudder deliciously.

He smiled and winked at the older man.

“You gonna be awake when I come back?”

Tony shrugged, grinning. Gibbs really did know him too fucking well. The older man leaned over the tub, kissed his lips gently, and dropped a soft kiss in his hair before leaving the bathroom.

Tony sighed and stretched luxuriously in the tub. He should start washing himself before he got too tired, he told himself, but his eyelids were so heavy. So he leaned his head back against the towel Jet had placed so perfectly for him, and allowed himself to drift off.

He sat up, splashing water on the older man when he was awakened. The water had cooled significantly and the skin of his arms was puckered with gooseflesh.

“Shh, honey,” Gibbs’ voice calmed him. “Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

He yawned, putting a hand on the back of Gibbs’ neck and rubbing him gently. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked, unable to stifle another yawn.

“It’s been over an hour. I let some water out and kept putting in hot water from the sink, but this water’s pretty cold now and you’re wrinkling up like a raisin.”

Tony grinned as Gibbs helped him up and out of the tub, and stood, yawning, while the older man rubbed him dry with warm towels.

“Shit, Jet, did you put my towels in the dryer before getting me out of the tub?” he sighed as Gibbs wrapped him in a warm towel.

Gibbs only smiled a reply, kissing the corner of his mouth. Tony pressed himself against him, pulled his head close and began kissing him, moaning when Gibbs’ tongue pressed into his mouth, dueling with his, exploring his mouth lazily. The towel fell from his waist as he pulled Gibbs even closer, kneading his ass under his loose jeans, rubbing himself against Gibbs’ denim-clad groin.

“I thought you were tired?” Gibbs teased him.

“Mmm, I’m always up for you,” Tony mumbled in between kisses, his cock hardening. “But if you’re concerned, you can do all the work tonight.”

Gibbs’ grin turned feral, and his calloused hand worked its way down until he wrapped his fingers around Tony’s shaft, feeling a stab of smug satisfaction when the younger man’s hips bucked and he groaned, pulling away from the kiss and leaning his forehead against Gibbs’, pumping himself into Gibbs’ hand.

“Let’s get you to bed, Tube Socks,” Gibbs said huskily.

“On your six, Navy Guy,” Tony responded.

Gibbs kissed him, walking him backwards all the way to the bed and pushing him onto it as he pulled his own clothes off in record time. Tony watched him closely, his eyes dilated, his honey-gold skin flushed all over, and his hand gently fisting his leaking cock.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Jet,” he crooned as Gibbs crawled onto the bed. “I could come just looking at you,” he moaned as he squeezed his cockhead.

Gibbs pulled his hand away, kissing the top of his cock. “Mine,” he told the young man firmly as he put his own hand on Tony’s dick and began stroking him.

“Fuck!” Tony hissed, throwing his head back, his hips moving with Gibbs’ hand. “Fuck, Jet,” he panted, fighting the sudden urge to come. It had been a while since his last orgasm.

He grabbed the base of his cock, refusing to come too soon, refusing to allow the pleasure to end too quickly. Gibbs wrapped his lips around Tony’s weeping cock and sucked on the head, moving his hand up and down his shaft in short, hard strokes, Tony’s deep groans making his own dick throb.

When he slipped a lubed finger into Tony’s anus, the younger man began whimpering with the need to come, gripping himself even more tightly, his other hand clenching the bedclothes, as if trying to anchor himself.

A second finger slipped into his tight hole, scissoring, loosening him, and then curling and rubbing on his prostate.

“Oh god, oh fuck, oh fuck. _Fuck_!” Tony’s moans were urgent, his hips undulating, his muscles tightening convulsively around Gibbs’ fingers. His grip tightened almost painfully on the base of his cock, desperate to hold off the orgasm that was bound to be explosive.

“Let go, honey,” Gibbs said hoarsely around the hard cock in his mouth, watching him closely. “Come for me. Come on, honey. Come for me.”

With a strangled scream, Tony released his cock and exploded, thrusting himself into Gibbs’ talented mouth, cum pulsing down the older man’s throat. Gibbs swallowed it all down, licking Tony’s cock clean as the young man shuddered in the aftermath. Gibbs sucked on his softening dick and continued to fuck him with his fingers until he began moaning again, pushing down into his fingers.

“Need you,” he moaned. “Please, Jet. Please fuck me. Fuck me now.”

“That what you want?” Gibbs continued to suck on his now-hardening dick, always amazed that the younger man would be hard again for him so soon. Ah, the privileges of youth, he thought.

“ _Yes_!” Tony gasped. “Fuck, yeah! C’mon, Jet! Fuck me now.” He whimpered when Gibbs released his cock and began kissing his way up his body, his fingers keeping up their movements, rubbing his prostate intermittently.

By the time he’d paid enough attention to his nipples, his collarbone, the hollow at the base of his throat, his neck, his ear and finally Gibbs was once again kissing his lips, covering his body with his, grinding their hard cocks together, the young man was writhing and moaning, hands moving all over Gibbs’ body, arching up against him, rubbing their cocks together.

Gibbs slid into his hot, tight body and closed his eyes, moaning as Tony’s muscles squeezed his cock. Tony’s legs went around his waist, and he met each of Gibbs’ hard thrusts, pressure building up in his body, especially when Gibbs adjusted the angle and began hitting his sweet spot. Eyes locked on each other, Gibbs began jerking Tony off again, and before long Tony’s toes were curling, balls tightening, entire body tingling, barreling towards another climax. He pulled Gibbs’ head down, crushing their lips together, crying out into his mouth as he came again, hot and sticky over Gibbs’ fingers and his belly. His muscles contracting around Gibbs’ dick pushed him to find his own release, driving himself deep into the younger man as he came, brokenly calling out his name.

Tony slipped into a deep sleep, barely stirring when Gibbs pulled out, kissing him gently. He roused himself when Gibbs wiped him down with a warm, wet washcloth.

“Did you put my towel in the laundry basket or hang it up?” he mumbled, frowning, eyes still closed.

“Don’t worry, honey. I put everything away, just like you like it,” Gibbs told him as he slid back into bed, smiling as the young man immediately curled himself around his body, head on his chest, eyes still closed. Even this exhausted, Tony still cared that he’d left his towel on the floor in the bathroom, and this was _his_ Tony. Finally. Tony would freak out in the morning, looking at the condition of the bed in the guest bedroom, he thought, kissing Tony’s temple fondly.

In the morning he almost laughed out loud when Tony refused to get up, begging for a few minutes, and when begging failed, he immediately started on a different delaying tactic, wrapping his lips around Gibbs’ cock. The older man was begging for release, fucking Tony’s mouth as Tony’s fingers slipped into his body and began massaging his prostate. When Tony pressed his slicked up cock into his body, Gibbs opened his legs wide, welcoming him, moaning and cursing as Tony began thrusting in and out of his body, slamming his prostate with every stroke. Tony’s fingers wrapped around his dick and began jerking him in time to the thrusts, and Gibbs was flying, practically screaming when his orgasm slammed into him, and grunting as Tony kept thrusting into him until he found his own release.

They shaved and showered together, and Tony kissed Gibbs, long, sweet kisses while they got clean. Downstairs, Gibbs watched as Tony poured Cap’n Crunch into a bowl, with milk, and began noisily eating his cereal. He smiled, ruffling Tony’s hair as he went to get a refill on his coffee, laughing at Tony's outraged " _Hey_! Not the hair!" in response to his perfectly coiffed hair being ruffled.

While Tony cleaned the kitchen, he told the younger man about Kate’s reaction to Kate, the lost shih-tzu making the younger man giggle happily.

At work, Tony superglued McGee’s keyboard to his desk, and had cleverly filled the acetone bottle with more superglue, causing McGee to glue himself to his desk and keyboard, while he laughed maniacally as he watched it happen. Kate cornered him in the stairwell and tried to take him to task for his habit of rating her clothing, her shoes, her hair, and her makeup but all he did was pat her cheek gently and tell her that she should pair the top she was wearing with her gray silk slacks instead of the blue linen ones, and escaped while Kate was sputtering with outrage.

And when Gibbs called out to them to grab their gear, Tony was the first one at the elevator, raring to go.

Tony was back, all right.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation about Jeffrey White and why Tony was so affected by the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Please note that I've quoted some lines from s02e10 Chained (italicized), and obviously I do not own any of it. Merely weaving canon into my version of the story.

Life went back to normal for the members of the MCRT. It was several weeks later, on a Saturday morning, lying in bed, exhausted and sated after a marathon of sex that Gibbs finally was able to bring up the subject of the Jeffrey White op. Tony was flat on his belly, face turned toward him, probably lying on several wet spots and sticking to the sheets. He was relaxed after multiple orgasms starting from the previous night, and his brain was mush or he would be kicking Gibbs out of bed to get their sheets soaking and clean sheets on the bed. Gibbs found that when Tony was this fucked out, and in this state of blissful exhaustion, this was usually the best time to bring up topics that he knew would be difficult for the younger man. And if things did not go well, he could always physically distract the man before things could escalate to any kind of argument or screaming match.

“Honey?” he began, lying on his side, running his hand up and down Tony’s body, running his fingers through his hair, gently rubbing his neck, caressing his shoulders and dragging his fingers down his back to knead his firm, shapely ass and his well-muscled thighs.

Tony smiled languidly as he hummed a reply. He loved being touched and was always so responsive, that Gibbs pondered giving him a massage just to hear his moans, but Tony would be too relaxed and melted into the mattress for a serious conversation after a massage.

“About Jeffrey White…”

Immediately, Tony’s eyes clouded, going from sated and relaxed to cautious and defensive. “Inquiry’s over,” he said softly. “I’ve been cleared.”

Gibbs continued his reassuring caresses. “I know. I was just wondering why he…affected you the way he did? You weren’t even with him that long, all things considered.”

Tony closed his eyes and tried to focus on Gibbs’ hands instead of his words. Images flashed through his mind.

_“God, the chicks are going to love you.”_

_“That’ll be the day.”_

_“Am I sensing a lack of confidence here?”_

_“Well, look at me!”_

White had looked so pathetic in that trailer with his puppy dog eyes blinking myopically behind those ridiculous glasses, and Tony knew he could help him. Knew he could help Jeffrey feel better about himself because after that time escaping, chained together, Jeffrey felt familiar. He knew Jeffrey. He could work with Jeffrey.

_“Lane took off.”_

_“Where did he go?”_

_“Last night we fought. Over you.”_

_“Really don’t like the way that sounds, Jeffrey.”_

_“He wanted to get rid of you. I wouldn’t let him.”_

_“Oh, now that sounds good.”_

_“You’ve been decent to me. Not a lot of people have.”_

And he _had_ been decent because Jeffrey had been a nice guy. Unsure of himself, needy, and whiney, but he’d been a nice guy. He’d been used by Lane, Tony had thought. He tried to push away the horrific images of Lane Harrison’s crime scene photos – the way his throat had been cut from ear to ear, practically cut through to his spine. Jeffrey had let Lane use him until he found someone who was nicer to him, and then he’d literally cut ties with the man.

And yet, Tony understood it. Kind of. Maybe not the killing part. But the lack of self-confidence, the neediness, the whining – underneath his cocky exterior, he felt like that was him. That was who he was, too. But unlike Jeffrey, he had been blessed with good looks and athletic abilities. His life had turned out very differently, but they were so much alike that it literally hurt him to see Jeffrey bumble around, trying to convince him to do things his way. Like a mirror held up to his soul.

Another memory.

_“My father used to have a cabin like this. He used to bring me and my sister here.”_

_“Good times?”_

_“He used to beat the crap out of me. Your parents are supposed to help you, Tony, not hurt you. Your father hurt you?”_

_“No, he was too drunk to hurt anyone...”_

Most of the time, Tony finished the sentence in his head now. Most of the time his father had been too drunk to hurt him. But not all the time.

And his mind shied completely away from their final conversation. When he had owned up to being a Federal Agent, and Jeffrey had said that he suspected it, hence the river, crashing the truck, all of that. Jeffrey had seen right through him. But he’d also seen how they had clicked. And still, he’d gotten rid of Lane and chosen Tony over his long-time companion and accomplice. He had _killed_ Lane for Tony. Because he had recognized him, too.

And look how that turned out for him. Tony had ended his life. His poor, sad, pathetic little life. And even after finding out that White had been a serial killer, he _still_ liked the little guy and regretted having to kill him.

“Honey?” Gibbs’ voice brought him back to the present.

Tony opened his eyes, and Gibbs was stunned by the depth of sadness in his beautiful green eyes.

“Honey…” he breathed, running his fingers through the golden-brown hair, gently brushing away the tears seeping out of the corners of his eyes. “We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry, Tony.”

Tony sniffled and blinked for a moment. “I really liked him,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Why?” Gibbs was truly stumped. He couldn’t see how his beautiful Tony could have warmed up to White so thoroughly and so quickly. “Help me understand.”

Tony sighed and closed his eyes, leaning into Gibbs’ touch, signaling him to continue to play with his hair, which the older man obligingly did. “He is me,” he finally said softly. “If I didn’t get a growth spurt and coordination, and inherit the fucking DiNozzo looks, I would be Jeffrey White. I knew everything about him after ten minutes with him, because he _is_ me. And I am him. He’s what I was when I was twelve. Exactly the same. Right down to the anger at the world and the inability to express it, and the burning need to make everyone feel our pain.”

Gibbs couldn’t help the sharply indrawn breath at this declaration, but Tony was completely oblivious. Lost in thought.

“Even now, even though I know he was a serial killer, I’m sorry I killed him. I wish he was still alive. Because I still want to talk to him. To help him. Because if I made it, he can too. And if he didn’t make it…then maybe I didn’t either? Maybe I’m just hiding it from myself. Maybe I’m in this job because I can legally…kill people and we can pretend that it’s just me doing my job instead of me being a serial killer?”

“No, Tony. No. You stop there,” Gibbs said firmly, pulling the younger man into his arms, cupping his chin and waiting until the green eyes were on him. “You listening?”

“I’m listening, Boss.”

“You might have been like him, like Jeffrey White, when you were twelve. When you were helpless. When you were sent away. And angry at the world. And needed an outlet for this anger. I see that. I can see how you would think that, and I can sort of see it. Maybe not in the way you see it, but I’m not you and I didn’t know you when you were twelve. But I know you now. And you listen to me. You are in this job because you want to help people. I’ve seen it, this drive in you to make the world a better place for everyone. Every time you’ve had to take a life, you’ve tormented yourself about it. The inquiries are never half as harsh on you as you yourself are. I _know_ you, honey. Even if you had been Jeffrey White when you were twelve, somewhere along the way you made a choice, and one that he _didn’t_ make,” Gibbs watched Tony’s eyes, large and solemn, paying attention to him maybe even harder than he had ever had before. “You _chose_ to fight it. You _chose_ to contribute, to turn your personal pain into something productive instead of placing blame and taking your anger out on the innocent. It was your choice to serve and protect. You took that thing in you that is what Jeffrey White had in him too, but instead of letting it rule you and make you dark and scary, you laughed in its face and blew spitballs at it. You _chose_ to be you. You chose to be a force for good. You make a difference, and you do this every day. You get up every morning and you choose to be a good man. And that is what makes you different from Jeffrey White. He let the darkness overcome him but you didn’t.”

Tony’s lips quivered and his eyes welled up with tears. “So why does it feel like I killed a part of myself when I shot Jeffrey?”

Gibbs kissed his eyes and nose and lips gently. “Because you’re a good man, Anthony DiNozzo. You regret every life that you’ve had to take. And Jeffrey White didn’t. He killed because he’s a psychopath. You, honey, refused to allow yourself to become one. And that takes a strong person. To fight to be good, to fight to remain human and humane. You are everything that is good in this world to me. You help me keep my own darkness at bay. And you know that I _have_ killed for vengeance. Some days I regret it, but most days I don’t. But you keep me honest, you make me face the truth about myself and you still love me for me even when I’m such a bastard. And hell, you make me laugh at myself. Shit, without you I would be a miserable bastard, sitting in my goddamned basement, living entirely in the past, building boats I would never sail, and drinking myself to an early, lonely, and welcome death. So thank you for being you, and thank you for being here with me because I don’t tell you enough or show you enough how much I appreciate you for who you are. I love you, Anthony DiNozzo.” Gibbs’ gently wiped Tony’s tears away.

“What if I wake up one day, and I don’t want to fight the darkness anymore? What if I give in and turn into Jeffrey?”

“I won’t let you,” Gibbs said confidently. “Then it’ll be my turn to make you laugh at yourself and make you see the good in yourself and in the world. I’ve got your six, like you’ve got mine. I’ll always have your six, honey.”

Tony hid his face in Gibbs’ chest as he gave in to the tears.

“I really did like him,” he sobbed quietly.

“I know, honey. I know.” Gibbs held him, petting his hair and kissing his temple. “Just let it out. Let it all out.”

When his tears dried up, and he was trying to suppress the hiccups, he curled into Gibbs’ chest. “He was funny, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Idiot wanted to go scuba diving.”

“What’s so funny about that?”

“He didn’t know how to swim! And was afraid of the water.”

Gibbs chuckled.

“I think he had a thing for me,” Tony admitted.

“What, like I have a thing for you?”

“Mmm.”

“You tell him you already have a boyfriend?”

“ _That_ Tony didn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Good thing you killed him then, save me the trouble of doing it for sniffing around you.”

And suddenly Tony started giggling. “You’re such an ass,” he said. “You don’t have anything to worry about. Doing Jeffrey would be like doing myself. Woulda never happened.”

“Hmph,” Gibbs snorted. “Nice to know it’s the fact that it would be weird to do him that would have stopped you, and not you know, the fact that you’re in love with me that would have stopped you?”

“Sure of yourself there, aren’t you? About my feelings for you?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” Gibbs mock-glared at him.

Tony looked up and pulled Gibbs’ head down, pressing their lips together in a long, sweet kiss. “You know it, Jet. I love you,” he said, smiling as he kissed him again.

“Love you too, honey.”

Tony sighed and burrowed his face into Gibbs’ neck, breathing in that essence of Gibbs – sawdust, coffee, and this morning, good clean sweat and sex. “When you were talking to me, when I was finding my way back. Were you serious?” he asked softly.

“About what?”

“Going away with me? Somewhere fun?”

Gibbs’ fingers slipped into Tony’s hair, rubbing his scalp comfortingly. He was slightly surprised that Tony had been paying attention to all his chatter during the time when he wasn’t himself. “Why? You have some ideas?”

Tony shrugged, the gesture deceptively casual.

“You wanna elaborate?” Gibbs prompted him.

Tony breathed silently for a few moments before he took a deep breath. “Was thinking about you teaching Kelly how to fish.”

Gibbs hummed his response.

“I don’t really know how to fish. My dad took me once before my mother died but it kind of was a bust.”

“You want to go fishing with me?”

Tony shrugged. “I think I’d like it better than I liked camping. You could teach me how to fish.”

Gibbs chuckled. They had gone camping once and Tony ended up deciding that he hated it. He was competent enough at it, with Gibbs’ help, but he’d actually admitted afterwards that he was glad his dad never took him camping because he much preferred being surrounded by civilization.

“I can arrange something you might enjoy,” he finally agreed. “You like boats?”

“I don’t want to count helping you with the boat as a vacation away, Jet,” Tony grinned.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “Answer the question, honey.”

“I like boats. Don’t get seasick. Why?”

“You ever spend much time on a boat?”

“What kind of boat?”

“Sailboats. Like the ones I build.”

“I worked at a marina one summer in high school – learned how to sail then. I’m decent enough I guess, but haven’t really gone sailing in a long time.”

“Ok then. Well. I can take you sailing. And teach you how to fish then?”

Tony leaned up and frowned at Gibbs. “What do you mean, you can take me sailing? You burn all your boats when you finish them! You said so.”

Gibbs shrugged. “Kept the first one I ever built. It’s why I don’t need to keep all the others.”

“You have an actual sailboat?” Tony was skeptical.

“I do.”

“And it’s seaworthy? Not like some funky leaking bucket?”

Gibbs shook his head. “It’s seaworthy, DiNozzo,” he growled. “The next weekend we aren’t on call I’ll take you sailing. And we can fish.”

“Really?” the eagerness and hope in Tony’s voice was heartbreaking.

Gibbs nodded and grunted. “Would that work?”

Tony nodded, grinning. “That would definitely work.” He leaned down and kissed Gibbs long and hard. “Thank you,” he said quietly, and Gibbs looked in his eyes, understanding that Tony wasn’t just thanking him for the offer of sailing and fishing, but also the whole post-Jeffrey White care. He smiled and pulled Tony’s head down, devouring his lips and pushing his tongue into Tony’s mouth for another kiss, glad that that ordeal was over and that they were back in bed together.

When they pulled away from each other, panting for breath, Tony looked at him regretfully, hands kneading Gibbs’ ass. “Shit, I think I’m all fucked out for the time being or I’d so be tapping that sweet ass of yours right now,” he shook his head sadly.

“You’ll be ready for that after lunch, I’m sure.”

“Yeah plus, ugh, I’ve been in this fucking wet spot for _hours_! Gross. How is it that I _always_ end up on the wet spots?”

“Cause I’m clever and manipulative?”

“Bastard. Get off the bed so I can get this fucked up bed fixed up so we can have nice sheets to play in after lunch.”

“Come shower with me first.”

“Ugh… fine,” he looked down at himself and wrinkled his nose. “I’m even grosser than these sheets.”

“You smell like sex, honey. You smell like I’ve fucked you all fucking night long and made you come over and over and over again. Which, not surprisingly, is what I did do all night long,” Gibbs said smugly. Tony’s body was a smorgasbord of bodily fluids now, both his own and Gibbs’. The thought made his cock harden. “And fuck, now I want to make you come again.”

Tony grinned. “Let’s get in the shower, Jet. I’m sure you can convince me to come again in there,” he said lewdly and giggled as Gibbs yanked him off the bed and into the bathroom. “You know, I love how efficient shower sex is. You get the hot, steamy, slippery, dee-licious fucking, and then everything gets cleaned up all in one go. It truly appeals to the anal parts of me.”

“Shut up and get in the shower, honey,” Gibbs smacked his ass, “so I can appeal to your anal parts directly.”

“Ooo…thank you sir, may I have another?”

“Get in there so I can fuck you efficiently and save you the cleanup!”

“Yes sir, right away sir. Oh fuck, yeah…right there, sir…yeahhhh…fuuuuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos and lovely comments. I always really enjoy reading and responding to your words. I find them encouraging and supportive, and you also give me such great ideas for other fics, both in this 'verse and out of it!
> 
> As always, I listened to music while I wrote. Here are the songs that I listened to the most while I wrote this story. The title of the story is drawn from Norah Jones' song. Please click to give them a listen:
> 
> * [The Long Day Is Over](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=39qhTfHZq7g) (Norah Jones)  
> * [Unchained Melody](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXARHZmpgvw) (Righteous Brothers)  
> * [Come Back to Bed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QmPwDIePxGk) (John Mayer)
> 
> Thank you, and until the next story!
> 
> -j  
> xoxo


End file.
